


Tested

by CigaretteDaydreams



Category: Hannibal (TV), Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe - Outlast Fusion, Anarchy, Blood, Cute, Escape, M/M, Mental Instability, Murder, Outlast: Whistleblower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CigaretteDaydreams/pseuds/CigaretteDaydreams
Summary: Anarchy has broken out in a mental institute. After illegal experiments the patients have lost further touch from their sanity, Running from an inmate Will Graham finds himself trapped in the Ripper's domain. Outlast AU although you don’t have to have played Outlast for this to make senseRatings may change.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 114





	1. Caught

His hiding place was compromised, ears tuned to Tobias’s footsteps, a blatant longer step .

The inmates stare was locked on the stacked sleepers he was crouched behind.

Top lip beaded sweat, fear an unwelcome taste.

He darted, Tobias lunged. Sleepers crashing as Tobias violently entered the thin mock corridor between the store room boxes and the wall behind.

Hide and seek on boat yards in Louisiana came to mind. His introduction to claustrophobia, wedged behind an engine, ribs crushed between hot bulky metel, yet forced into this tunnel with a mass murderer he realised he'd never felt like this; a mouse, foot on the glue trap too late to retreat.

“Little rat hiding in the walls!” Tobias's deep voice was strangely composed, in contrast to the clear mania he was exhibiting. Anticipation rife threw his shaking form.

Will tore round the corner, trying to remember the last time he'd seen Gideon or the Verger siblings, it would be his luck to find them now.

Boxes were stacked closer to the walls here, his route was becoming thin. Feet closer together to continue running. Hoping he may have forgotten Tobias’s broad shoulders, he risked a backwards glance, except he was caught in manic brown eyes. Bloodlust sunk threw him. Smaller, common, his life meant absolutely nothing to this man. He was a game, someone to taunt before pulling the plug on.

He tripped, tangled with Tobias’s emotions. One hand thrown forward, just able to catch himself on splintering wooden floor boards. Fuck.

It'd cost him his lead.

He spun to his back, however fingers were already scramming at his legs, he convulsed, kicking with full strength at Tobias's hip, striking bone under thin rubber soles, Tobias went down.

He was dragged as Tobias's claws stuck in the cargo material of his trousers.

A crunch impeded Tobias’s head impacting the cement wall. Grip loosening in shock.

Will reached for a crate, rocking to his knees. An old shoulder injury threatened his balance, but his knees remained stiff, just able to get to his feet.

Tobias thrashed, crashing into the crates either side of him. Slamming echoed, more light flooding the crevice as a white splintered crate fell.

Will zipped open his inmate issued jacket pocket, for a knife he no longer had, Itching to see Tobias dead. He let his imagination swim, judging if he could rush in and strangle. But Tobias was almost up. Feet too steady. He saw his own death.

Will jumped at the wall of crates, Box’s exploding out, he'd burst into a music room of the asylum, by some amazing luck absent till now, he stayed on his feet. The disturbed boxes more of an obstacle for Tobias.

His eyes snapped to instruments, shoddy violens crudely wired with thick human intestines, donated by dead bodies bursting from a fireplace.

A grand throne, dragged from god knows what department sat at the centre of the room. Obscuring Tobias vision on him. Will sprinted, old caution of openly traveling the asylum dissipating as he ran threw the open door.

People in the accompanying room were audible from the corridor, hearing his slapping footsteps, big sick eyes rushed to watch, echos of mock cheering, then laughing, before dissolving into rancid coughs. The experiments had been physically harsh, peeling fuschia skin and hair loss were common in most who'd been exposed to the evils of the Engine

A door swung open in front of him, a malnourished man with ash blond hair rushed out, arms flung wide. Using muscle memory Will slammed his fist into their face, maybe this was why his career as a police officer had ended quickly he pondered as the man went down, he sprinted past the weak gasps. not knowing how far away Tobias was he rushed to the right door seeing a staircase down, resisting the urge to leap the whole thing

“Don’t follow, the cannibal will get him now.” a deep voice spoke to someone behind, Will tore down the stairs.

Peering into darkness, he sprinted down a pristine Hallway. His feet audible against the pale plastered walls. Two more sets ricocheted far back.

He contemplated his options, he couldn’t keep running, he had barely slept or ate in the few days since the asyslum erupted into anarchy, the drugs that had been controlling his Enchaphilitus had all worn off. He didn’t have the stamina for a long chase, nor could he fight off Tobias, the man was strong, he would have to hide.

Hoping the darkness was doing something to cover him, he took wider steps creating light footsteps.

A side effect of slowing down was his body catching up to itself. Knees unsupportive, although he judged he could control the shaking.

Twisting the handle to slide into the next room, he turned back to throw the lone occupant of his pocket; a soon to be broken phone he had stole, down the corridor, hoping the bouncing would draw his followers onwards. He closed the door slowly, before crouching behind it, he held his breath, rapid footfall approaching.

He began some half assed meditation, the noose of panic tight around his throat, peering around the office. Furniture looking sturdy, quality wood that must have cost a pretty penny, he must be in part of the staff wing, The glint of Zinc drew his eye, he could just make out a faded picture of someone's wife and cat pinned to the corkboard.

Was this the employee who had stripped him when he got here he wondered, spitting into his food, wielding a syringe like a knife to stab him with the experimental serum. An old resentment for the FBI. Will barely even worked for them, he’d only ever let him hold a guest badge. Why he was the conduit for the man’s hate was redundant. This shouldn't just be bothering him now, he'd had a few days to process that the employees had been the first to be butchered by the freed inmates, the guy was most certainly dead or at least in extreme pain wherever he was.

The men had almost caught up. Stationary sprawled across the floor, he risked moving for a weapon within a pencil,

The tendons in his ankle stretched uncomfortably as he shuffled forward in a squat. Resting his weight back on his fingers he used the toe of his trainer to manipulate the pencil. Rolling it towards him, he heard a set of footsteps sprint onwards, yet weren't there two people before Will thought?

Someone must be paused at the door.

Randels' influence swept over him, the pencil morphing into a claw, teeth bared from his lips. He scratched at his hands, breathing deeply trying to centre himself. It wouldn’t be good to lose it, Randal thrived for chaos, he would risk attracting the other person’s attention who had potentially dismissed the door.

His nerves sunk him back, flicking through murder cases he’d worked on, he found someone quiet. Peter Davis, a proud man. Who used to hide in alleyways to kidnap women, he could feel Peter emerge from behind, bristles from a greying beard scratched past his own, like a sharp nail tracing up his spine he shook. Don’t let them hear you, he slid off his jacket, squatting next to the door. Bubbles of hysteria swam up to pop, if he opened his mouth he’d be giggling.

A knock sounded twice

“Tobias did you come in here?” was whispered, this inmate was capable of conversation, Will briefly entertained reasoning with him.

The door pushed by chubby fingers, moving swiftly Will’s jacket was thrown to drape over the man’s head, pencil swung wide to push into his neck seeking the trachea, there was soo much resistance in the tendons. More then a pencil could fight. Wills hands shifted _NOT the face_ Davis cried, desperate to prevent further injury to the prize, transparent fingers showing him where to place his, so when he slammed the head against the door frame you could still use his beautiful face.

The body dropped, feet kicking Wills as his limbs fell. Peeling the bloody jacket away, Peter peered at the dented right side, twisting the head cruely to face him. The eye had been crushed under the fractured skull. The man would be useless now. Red Liquid pooled over the webs of his fingers to drip onto the floor.

Gasping he stepped back, blinking while his eyes studied the body. He was dead. He kicked the corpse further into the room.

Hearing no sound, he peered into the darkness of the hallway.  
He stepped out trying to distribute his weight evenly and moving slowly, the floorboards thankfully stayed quiet.

He flicked his eyes back towards the staircase, contemplating returning. There was a man standing in the hallway.

It wasn’t the corpse.

The man shone through the darkness, an impressive form, skin barely stuck on to cheekbones and broad shoulders. Burgundy lit up his frame, gold fire bursting from his arms. Beautiful.

He made it a point to never acknowledge his hallucinations, its why he’d gone undetected for so long, and it protected his sanity. Talking to the imaginary stag for 6 months hadn’t put him in a good mental state.

He continued up the corridor, his earlier dilemma dismissed at the likelihood of the patients that had chased him to the staircase waiting, he fancied his chances with one inmate rather then four.

Making it to the end of the corridor, he turned to his left stepping over light coloured wood into a conservatory.

He theoretically knew thick Iron gates enclosed the whole asylum. Yet the night tricked his mind into believing he was free, windows spanning the walls, listening to the rain he closed his eyes, grass sprouting from between the bleached floor, sun spinning into view. A shaggy collie type dog leads the other 8, Will stepping forward as Bettie and Buster’s play fight turns nasty again, another sleepless night looming.

Iron fell over his vision. Clouds and rain descending. His previous worries seemed weak, well, he was still having sleepless nights, but instead of fighting his murderous instincts he was fighting literal murderers. His instincts were the only thing that had kept him alive till now. He still detested them, but he would accept them to survive.

he looked round seeing an armchair directed towards the empty fireplace, leafs from tall monstreas damp as they had been watered recently.

He only heard the last footstep before hands gripped his shoulders. Twisting him backwards, his hand couldn’t raise in time to block the blow to his face, lip taking the impact as he stumbled. Tobias.

A knife was pulled from a handmade cape, buttons far grander then the fraying ends had any right to be kept a variety of instruments secured to its inside, initially shoked, Wills mind, inappropriate at the best of moments noticed, instead of bloody instruments of torture, there were a set of tongs, a spatula and a pair of chop sticks, Police training let him dodge the first strike distracted. Tobias swung again, swiping the blade back like a sword just catching Will’s wrist.

The damage frantically checked, he didn’t see any bone, ignoring the blood splatter, he couldn’t feel any pain from it either.

The corridor was around 7 or 8 steps away. He wouldn’t make it to the door.

A hand clutched at his shoulder, the first layer of skin taken under the curl of nails. knife pulled back, spring coiled. He watched feeling time drag as it slipped inside his abdomen. Hot pain. Jerking, he reached for the knife desperately trying to prevent it from sinking further. He grasped Tobias’s thumb backwards in some mimicry of an FBI move he had once observed, realising the joint wasn’t locked he pushed harder, Tobias jolting as the audible click of the thumb pushing out of the socket.

Opportunity signaled by the crack. He caught the blade, blood rising from micro cuts. Tobias was angry, still trying to clutch for the knife even with his thumb stuck upwards, will yanked the blade slicing deep into his palm as it yanked out of Tobias' grip, clattetering to the ground. Tobias leaned down to reach for it, Sensing his opportunity Will brang his knee up, Hard bone slamming into Tobias’s nose.

Tobias grip formed around Will's knee, trying to push it away from his face, Will used his other knee instead repeating the move. A coil of satisfaction spread as the manic expression gave way to pain. Tobias lying out on the floor, his broken thumb clutching at the place Will's knee struck. WIll crouched stomach burning, to pull the knife slowly into his grip. A tree branch catching his hand as he rose above Tobias,

Thick branches cast a brittle cape around Tobias. He dug flesh to pierce limbs, Tobias bled out somewhere after the third branch swam threw his innards. hanging him like a christmas babble onto the tree. Spring came, Sun shining seeds fell splitting to burst open carnations and roses, he watched them bloom drinking the life blood.

“Stunning.” lithuanian accent, deep. Will as if on a conveyor looked left, strong broad shoulders were the first thing he noticed, then the height, familiarity itched under his eyes. The man in the hallway had not been a hallucination.

Will desperately scanned the inmates expression. Admiration, familiarity. A murderer clearly, His display hadn’t frightened him.

His breath heavy with exhaustion, He pressed against his stab wound. Hoping the dark fabric of his t-shirt disguised the severity. Surprisingly he couldn’t feel much blood.

Remembering his art, he looked forward with clean eyes. Bile rose at a citizens disgust, what Jack would say, what Molly would think of her sweet boy. What he’d done to a mentally ill person. On autopilot he stepped forward to pull it down, the body barely supported snapping on the thinner branches to pool, soaking the wooden floor.

He could feel the question from his right

“Some beauty wasn’t meant for us.” He said voice echoing around the large room. Quite was rare in the Asylum. He couldn't hear anything but their breathing,

“And why not, when it is provided so readily” the man motioned upwards, sending thoughts to the rapid inmates pulling each other apart.

“You believe them to be beautiful?” Will said mimicking the same motion, disgusted

“Crude instruments, and man/pig hybrids haven’t been in good taste, I’ll admit, although the engines influence has created a freedom, like I have never seen.” Hannibal answered.

So the man was acquainted with the Vergers. Will had last seen them occupy the women’s dormitories Far in the east wing, this man had moved around Will realised.

This was the first actual conversation he’d had with another inmate, everyone else consumed by rage or fear, this man seemed untouched by the experiments Will thought, although clearly morally warped. Something itched at Will, The man had always been like this. The engine hadn’t touched him. Whatever crazy he was, he'd been born with.

“I’m surprised you have left your cushy den,” Will teased finding some of his amusement had soaked in. It was all becoming clearer as he stared back at Tobias, the throne in his music room to play his bloody violins “he made it all for you.” it had always been about this man. Tobias worshipped him.

The man hummed, before crouching, Will was struck, why would a predator expose his back? Trust, test or a trap, he stayed still.

Pain blistered where his fingers nervously rubbed together, thin paper cut like wounds from Tobias’s knife, strangely more prominent then the pain from the stab into his abdomen. Thoughts drifting back to the knife, he tried to look for it in the gore.

“You’ve punctured the kidney and Lungs, were you going for symmetry?” Hannibal questioned peeling the cloak back to watch the stab wounds threw the t-shirt transparent with blood. With no beating heart to pump it blood was starting to slump around the wounds. Distracted from his knife hunt, Will was transfixed. His previous crime that had got him sent here had been hazed with instability, for the first time he clearly watched his influence.

“It was a drawing the chesapeake ripper left, although I suppose I would need to expose the lungs more.” The works overlapped in his mind, why had he done this? Why now was this particular drawing displayed?

“Remarkarkable.” the man split an eerie smile, skin pulling at harsh cheekbones. He wore his age well, wrinkles looked purposeful, the grey in his scalp was blended through strong brown tones. He was very attractive, an old repressed crush on one of his fathers friends rered his head. They had the same assurity that only arrived with age. He swallowed watching The man rise to his feet, his height dominating the space.

Will reluctantly recognised his growing enjoyment, the simple pleasure at connecting with another human. Something he was barely able to do outside the mental institute.

He traced the man’s features. Mind Stuttering on the expression; Familiarity. The man knew the scene, either he had seen the highly confidential drawing or- “I’m performing as the Chesapeake ripper to the Chesapeake ripper.” Will mumbled half to himself. Hannibal Lecter. He was aware the ripper was thrown into this asylum, although he’d hoped due to the flashy nature of his crimes, he’d have gotten killed by now, so wouldn’t be someone he’d have to fight. Hannibal’s eyebrows raised, daggered teeth leading his grin

“Would you tell me how you came to your assumption, I once thought myself allusive?” Asked Hannibal.

Will rested his body weight on his back foot, old resentment for the discrimination sure to follow, then felt ridiculous at being scared of judgement from someone who was certainly some new species of psychopath.

“The psychology hasn’t caught up, but I’ve been told I have some sort of empathy disorder.” WIll waited, watching Hannibal’s brain tick.

“A true gift, tell me, how did it feel to be me, did you see the spring.” Hannibal questioned

“I can see but not relish, I’d rather keep what sanity I have left.” the mans gaze was intense, Will wouldn’t meet his eyes, if normal murders triggered instability, what would looking at the ripper trigger? From his phrefral he caught flared nostrils, was he smelling him?

“But sanity is unnatural for you, not mentioning the encephalitis, you haven't ever conformed.” Hannibal assured, the invisible gesture at the Murder infront of them went unsaid.

“You can smell enchabilitus?” He wondered if his earlier hallucination assumption was correct. To distinguish between mental disorders by smell, did he even have that strong of an imagination. “-And you don’t know me.”

Also he thought why was he still responding, instead of planning how to get out of the Ripper sector of the asylum? Clearly physically able and a notorious serial killer, this man was no more safe then anything upstairs, yet, Will trusted his instincts, this man wouldn’t kill him yet, he was interesting.

A thump ricocheted around the room as an arm hit the door sill to the conservatory, Will glanced at Hannibal to find his eyes already on him. A deep brown almost red in the centre. The ripper wasn’t startled. Will turned to watch the fat man he'd killed earlier stumble. The absurdity screamed hallucination, but Hannibal was reacting, so the man lived.

Moaning clutching at his dented head he zigzagged,  
“-obias, who did this to-bias.” The man spoke heavily lisped, slanted eyes stranded on the death in-front.

Hannibal shone with amusement, he shifted feeling WIll’s eyes to watch WIll in turn. He barely registered Franklyn walking past them up to the body of Tobias.

“You removed the pencil?” Will asked, Hannibal gazed at the angelic features of the young man, A trail of thought imagined clay molding around the curls and cheeks to sculpt Eros, He decided then if it came to it, that's how he would be displayed. He wondered again at the logistics of the gift of empathy. Never had he been predictable, but this man could see him. A long dead part of himself Stirred

“I wouldn’t violate my hippocratic oath.” Hannibal smirked. Will speculated if he ever wasn't amused.

Turning back to the unfortunate scene, echos of agony trailed the man, insane or otherwise the pain he must be in. Will felt his own head split. He couldn’t look for much longer.

Hannibal bent forward “I also clean up after myself.” was murmured, the bearist rush of breath cool against his cheek, he felt the bizarre urge to blush. Maroon staring into Blue. before striding forward.

His forearms gleamed, reaching up in one fluid motion pressing deep into the mans bloody neck and twisting. With a ta- da motion that Will hated made him want to laugh. The man was at peace, lying next to the person he'd died for.

Rain was muffled against the glass. Wind shaking cheap panes.

Where would he go next? He had constantly been moving since the revolt, chased from one area to another, old goals of using the phone on top of the North tower fell back into his head. The phone he had hurled down the corridor. Looking back Hannibals eyes were locked on.

“Is he gonna be Dinner, or am I to walk to my plate?” The Chesapeake rippers link to cannibalism had been denied but Will knew he wasn’t wrong when he’d studied the case files.

“My thoughts on eating you have nothing to do with the kitchen, Franklin has served me well, he shall make a fine accompaniment to what I had planned.” Hannibal leaned over stripping Franklin of his over coat. Will could barely see over his blush, mind stuttering over what Hannibal had said, had he intended on…?

“Will you be staying for dinner?” Hannibal inquired from his bent position, Will didn’t expect to be given a choice, his mind flicking thru options, what would leave him alive, although he still didn’t find himself fearing Hannibal, and was starting to believe if he opted to leave, Hannibal wouldn’t kill him for it. The other meaning of dinner spun more graphic images. He very rarely felt attraction, however heat was pooling in his spine, An apparent exception; male serial killers. He also hadn't eaten in soo long. Food was rarer then gold in the asylum.

All his life, every thought of his had been suppression. Never permitted to find what his body craved, allow himself any indulgence in case it led to tragedy.

Encephalitis had released his conditioning, brutally murdering Randel Tier. But with his conviction and the drugs; he was getting treated, he saw normality, he could have normal relationships, but it never quite felt like this. Like living.

“I’ll stay” Will responded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading,  
> Please leave Kudos if you enjoyed
> 
> I love reading comments as well ;D


	2. The last meal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terms:
> 
> The engine: the expermental serum the paitents were injected with

* * *

A mutilated face and bloated stomach, not particularly appetising. However dead cows never did inspire hunger.

On the ethics and logistics of eating a human, surprisingly he didn’t have strong instinctual objections or even disgust. He grew up poor; he’d got used to eating what he’d been given.

Hannibal was yet to bring out a scalpel, but he was sure there was one on him, jacket most likely, although possibly somewhere convoluted like sewn into his socks.

“Would you let me see to your wounds?” 

Will flinched, hand reflectively covering his abdomen. A vague memory came back Hannibal had studied at John Hopkins as a surgeon. He was qualified. However his license may have expired while he’d been incriminated for 33 counts of murder.

“I’ll take your advice, but I’d prefer to do any treatment myself.” Hanibal appeared to accept this, rising to his full height and motioning to a door at the other end of the room,

“Please come with me.” Will followed, looking back at cooling bodies. Maybe he didn’t want to be watched.

“Please take a seat.” the small space was clearly a break room for the staff, a limited kitchen with a frumpy red sofa wedged in against the back wall. No one could hide in here.

“I thought the Kitchen would be your palace,” Will said surprised he was invited in so casually

“It is a form of temple for me, however in the adjacent wing there is one much better equipt” Hannibal said while opening a side cabinet. He looked back over his shoulder “although you’ve hardly introduced yourself” Will recognised a feline way of batting at you, and just like a cat Will wasn’t sure what would try his patience. He was a dog person after all.

“Will Graham,” He responded, no use hiding his name.

“Hello Will,” Hannibal said, Will huffed a stupid smile at the dorkiness of it all. Cheek muscles aching. “My name is Hannibal Lecter.” of course he knew this, Hours of pouring over the case, and bombardment of news articles, but politely nodded.

“Can I see your hands Will?” Hannibals palms opened, waiting. Will looked down, his own brown with blood and dirt, hesitating, strong fingers slid against his, their pads lacing together, Will’s flexed unconsciously, cringing at their imitation of holding hands. Murders played out, life was ended by these fingers gripping his so gently. Hannibal’s hands twisted causing Wills to flip in turn, studying the thin cuts.

“antiseptic and bandages will be adequate, the pain will probably be worse tomorrow when the scabs have come in, and every move reopens them,” Hannibal affirmed stepping back “you’ve another wound on your abdomen, correct.?”

Will shuffled his jacket off before lifting his inmate issued navy t-shirt carefully over his head, he was hit by the scent of his own sweat. Fear and anger sunk deep into the fibres, when was the last time he’d worried about something as innane as body hygiene. He threw both over the sofa arm.

He could finally see his stab wound. Dried blood a smear from a jagged ruby line.

Looking up; sensing movement, Hannibal was closer, “May I?”

Will took a deep breathe gathering false bravado, Hannibal wasn’t a shark, the sight of blood wouldn’t send him into a frenzy “sure.”

Palms forward, the universal language of a non threat. Finger tips met and slid down his chest, until pushing just above the cut. Fuck that burned, biting his lip to look away at the sting.

Hannibal hummed, the sound of his lips moving audible in the quiet, still tracing the wound.

“Without access to x-rays, I’ll use my clinical judgement,” A sharper prod, it was starting to feel wet, blood moving across the skin again “-the knife has not clipped the bowels or another organs, infact I believe it has only sunk into your internal oblique” Will reopened his eyes watching Hannibal turn away, opening a high cupboard and pulling out a neon Green first aid kit, Holding it out till Will took it off his hands “I would recommend stitches.”

His determination receded, Pulling a needle threw an open wound. The pain alone. Hannibal was moving away, but Will still refused to ask, he’d be in more pain but be safe.

Packages poured out as he clicked the green tab open, plastic sliding over his lap onto the floor, he slid down careful not to bend, getting everything back onto the sofa. Sharpie labeled each item, seems like the doctor's handwriting stereotype did not apply. Font nicer than his wedding invitations.

Will looked in awe at the amount gathered, clearly there had been additions.

Needles and thread were in the same pack. He considered bandaging his hands first, but thick cotton hands would only impede. He was already at a disadvantage with how sore moving his fingers were.

Disinfecting his hands burned, maybe he should have asked Hannibal about this as well, was it supposed to feel hot? He tried to ignore it, patting at his trousers to get some of. Fibres sticking in the cuts.

He got everything ready, lowering the shaking needle down.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Hannibal was watching from the door, “Limiting the oxygen to your brain will make you less accurate.” He finished

Having an accomplished Doctor study his medical technique, his inner dog was bearing his teeth. Giving a deliberate glance, that Hannibal chose not to see, Will started.

It hurt less than he’d expected, but how was he supposed to manipulate the needle inside his skin? Wrist at an angle he completed the first stitch. It wasn’t that deep, hoping it would suffice, he slowly made his way up the wound.

Adrenaline disapated, as he got used to the horror of stabbing himself, sharp pain now at every move.

He slipped on the fourth stitch, tearing the wound upwards, teeth firmly in his lips he didn’t make a sound.

He tied the thread, the stitches pulled tight, hopefully a good thing considering its purpose.

Unable to lift his arms, he gingerly worked his black t-shirt on with one arm, draping his jacket over one shoulder for now.

“Does the sink work.” He questioned nodding to the tap

“Yes.” was returned with a gesture to go on.

He washed, nails scraping to clear the bloody grime fully from his skin. Hands cupped he threw water up at his face, easing the oily feeling he'd just noticed was unbearable.

“I’d kill for a shower.” he warbled over the sounds of the tap

“I have one down the hall, free for use.” The voice came closer than expected.

His mind was of-guard. Not a trusting person in the slightest, but Hannibal's presence wasn’t sending warning signs, the sensors were off. He supposed that's why he’d been successful. Who suspected the polite Doctor. Unless it was his exhaustion. Deliberately pushing Hannibal’s kill count to the centre of his thoughts he kept one eye on the man. “With a lock on the door.” Hannibal added, he scoffed

  
“You wouldn’t kill me till after dinner,” Will quipped, maybe saying it enough might make it true “And I’m fine.” there was only so much risk he could take today, however tempting.

  
Hannibal pulled open the cabinet, the reach of his arm exposing the ripples in his back muscles.

  
You were taking Lobotan for your enchaplitus correct?” Hannibal asked, Will knodded slowly "I don’t know your dose, but take approximately double of these pills."

  
Will slid two out dropping them down his sleeve, making a show of swallowing. He would see how Hannibal reacts in the next hour if they were sedatives or poison.

With a long backwards glance Hannibal walked out.

A toe cramp put him back on the sofa, unable to bend and massage the area he flexed his foot desperately. It did fade.

He was exhausted. With no distractions the past three days ran dramatically through his mind.

Delirious the first day, serum still enhancing his hallucinations into mania, the second more clear, It was only yesterday he’d woke up enough to tell who was a person of who was an apparition. And he’d still fucked that up, Hannibal he’d ticked off as a mirage. The doubt was his biggest fear here, not knowing your reality, was any of this actually happening.

He couldn’t torture himself with his thoughts any longer, attempting to rise to his feet,Sore hands clutching the sofa arm. white sprinkling his sight. Lack of sleep, food, drugs or safety he wasn’t sure.

The drugs became alluring; whether it cured his constant migrine or killed him, they would end the torture.

Panic came with footsteps, mind locked in previous days, waiting for the next inmate to find him. Deep breathes whitch never made a fucking difference. It was most likely Hannibal. He forced his feet to carry his weight.

Flickers of ember, the fire had been started, he paused peering either side of the door, before stumbling into the conservatory. Hannibal wasn’t there.

The floors were clear, he hadn’t been in the right mindset to really appreciate it. lack of mud, blood or piss with intact floorboards was startling. The entire top of the mens cells had been broken, he’d been out of it at the time but he can remember jumping over some chasm to reach the next sector.

The fire drew him closer, holding frigid digits out to feel heat.

The flickers of light couldn’t touch the blackness of the corridor, looming in the corner of his eye. Anyone could hide there. Although there was kindness in the dark, it had aided him in the chase with Tobias .

Remembering the fight he turned, surprised to see the gore had disappeared, in the dim light he couldn’t even see a stain. Like it had never happened. He’d plead his insanity except the lingering bleach smell.

Yesterday's thoughts were back. Remembering the phone, he made his way to the corridor approaching from the right to check no one was crouched behind the left wall. Stepping further forward. Eyes adjusted slightly. Nothing. Well there were three people who could have picked it up. Two of them were dead.

He returned to an armchair, limbs folding unnaturally, when was the last time he’d sat down. He would wait here for whatever performance Hannibal would put on.

=

 _Meeting room 2_ proclaimed the plaque. The door stuttered against Sapphire blue carpet, too thick to go under, pulled back it exposed cement underneath.

Circles flung around the room from three cerulean candles lining a rectangle board table. shiny fake blinds pulled tight.

Plastic cultery and pearl coloured napkins, sat across the two seats adjacent in the middle.

Hannibal just motioned onwards so he took the left, partially sure sitting in Hannibal's desired seat wasn’t rude enough to warrant flesh.

Hannibal’s gait drew Will’s attention to a trolly, Hannibal reached over balancing two plates effortlessly on his forearm, and grabbing a bottle of wine with the other hand he strode forward.

Hannibal’s presence arrived behind him, his phereral alerting him to raised arms, he kept himself still as his plate slid in front of him.

The smell hit him first, meat, garlic and butter.

The warmth was startling, his hands rose over the plate, feeling steam lick his fingers. Threw their webs he could see a slab of flesh, soaked in some kind of beige sauce, asparagus stems, potatoes with a neat square of butter melting steady at the top,

“Thigh with Cheat’s Béarnaise sauce.” Hannibal's accent lit up the words,

Will could only stare, astonished a meal could be produced under these conditions.

The wine was poured. As it gushed out, Will corrected his assumption, It wasn’t wine, but grape juice. Seems alcohol would be rare here. Juice the drink of choice for mental institutes, every meal had been served with some variant of it, before his world went mad.

He cut the meat. Not overly suspicious, more white meat then red. He raised it up feeling burgundy eyes. The sauce hit his tongue, an involuntary moan rose, mouth wedged shut to prevent it but god was it good. The sauce had a mayonnaise like quality, onions?

Remembering it was polite to converse to the person who was hosting WIll tried to think of something to say, would talking about the ripper set him off. But however odd this was a unique oppurtunity.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you it's delicious.” Will quipped. Hannibal's will to please conflicted with what he knew about the ripper. Craving human affirmation contrasted with his view of humans as stock. Why care about the pig's opinion? There were either exceptions or an alternative agenda, He wasn’t deluded that his illness disguised his lickability. So what was Hannibal's goal here?

“You are remarkably clear headed.” Hannibal noted before taking a bite, Wills own fork hadn’t stopped, basically shoveling his food, oh right politeness.

“I was only exposed to the engine four times.” Will sucked on his fork, could he ask Hannibal for a bottle?

“You must have arrived sometime within the last month, I doubt Chilton would wait long with someone like you.”

“Try a week," Will responded. Breathing thru the stomach ache he realised something wasn’t adding up “you’ve been here four years Doctor, yet you are untouched, Surely Chilton also wouldn’t have resisted that long.” what the engine would have produced in the ripper, even he was curious. 

“I’m disappointed in you Will, can’t you see?” Hannibal smirked, refilling his glass.

He wasn’t an oracle, he didn't have any theorys jumping out at him, he'd have to concentrate, fall into the back of his mind he despised. But he needed to know.

Placing his fork down, eyes shut. It had been a long time since he actively tried to sink into his empathy. He allowed himself to fall. Faintly hearing the lap of fluid flowing into Hannibal's glass.

Frederick Chilton and Hannibal Lecter.

Links formed. Chilton’s name was on the character witness for Hannibal's trial. They'd known eachother surpluss of 5 years. Friends? Fredrick had admired Hannibal, an excerpt from a psychology magazine years prior to the cannibal's capture Chilton was praising him on his revolutionary treatments. Hannibal thought Chilton a moron, yet he’d also praised Fredricks engine experiments, had Chiton admired Hannibal that much, he would spare him, more accurately spare his mind... His ideas.

“You created it.”

He’d had no misgivings on Hannibal's character, but it hit him then. The evil this one man had created, dooming 400 inmates to a life of pain and confusion. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t look at him.

He bit back his anger, he didn’t have the luxury to express himself at the moment.

“Now you are disappointed in me,” Will looked up, curious to see if Hannibal was surprised, judging his expression was like looking for shapes in smoke.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” He asked, wondering if he would get anything close to the truth. Hannibal took a long sip, gently lowering the glass.

“I’d found success in prescribing the engine to my patients that suffered with anxiety and stress, always achieving very positive results. When I was incarcerated my belongings were auctioned off-” he looked at Will accusingly

“I don’t have any of it.” What a leep, why would he have Hannibal’s shit?

“I was hoping you had my drawings, I would quite like them back, you did mention them,” he said as he took his last bite, cutlery carefully together, interlocking the knife with the fork. “somehow Chilton won my notes, reading my success he began to experiment, I do admit, I am fascinated with how wrong he went in recreating the engines serum.” excuses were hard to fact check here, Will was sceptical.

“Why wouldn’t he consult you, surely he could have traded some food-your drawings for advice.”

“I did tell him he was wrong, However Chilton is not a man easily turned around.” Hannibal said. Will bet the protesting was rather weak. There was a childish part of him ready to believe whatever excuse he was thrown, if it made cohabiting easier. Also he desperately wanted to avoid a moral debate, he was slightly scared he’d lose somehow, his own thin.

“Can I go for a home run and say you also started the riots that caused this.” Will said motioning around vaguely, Hannibal laughed, white teeth visible.

“I’m sorry Will, I cannot take credit for that, I did think at first it had been..a friend but this hasn’t proved true.” Hannibal answered. This he did believe, his empathy hadn’t picked up any tells.

He had no evidence on what started the riots, not remembering it himself, the way this institute had been run he couldn’t rule out an accident. Bloody Chilton

“What do you think about the Engine’s results?” Will was curious, he hadn't had a chance to really discuss what was happening with anyone before.  
Hannibal was quiet

“I don’t have access to the files, nonetheless the results seem... chaotic, I still recognise mental abnormalities, but more violent and exacerbated than i’ve ever seen as a psychologist.” It lined up, Wills own symptoms were heightened when the serum was in his system, he was lucky he hadn’t been exposed enough to make the effects permanent. He wondered what Hannibal's symptoms would be; Narcissism? Good cooking?

  
“So why haven't you tried to escape.” Will asked, was this hell really someones heaven

  
“I was interested to see what would happen, are you seeking out?”

  
He was cautious how much he should reveal, “Yes.”

  
“Who did you imagine you would call in your hour of need,” Hannibal asked.

He must have found the phone, Will opened his lips to play it off as one of the other inmates yet, if Hannibal had seen him throw the phone, he didn’t want to risk credibility this early. Although admitting to wanting the police here wasn’t something Hannibal would enjoy. He’d be as honest as was safe for now and play defensive.

  
“Don’t you also want this hell to end?” Will said defensively, Hannibal was silent taking his time to think

  
“Isn’t it better then in chains?” He quipped finally

  
“No, not to me.” Will wondered what was funny about his answer

  
“But you see, you are not scared of the inmates or death, you are scared of yourself. Freedom. You want the chains to descend from the ceiling so you can stop making choices, retreat back into the cave to watch the shadows,” Will glared, only Hannibal could make a murder spree sound favourable to an anarchical institute. “Why be chained when you can thrive.” Hannibal finished

“Then why did you submit to chains for the last four years, I don’t believe the great Hannibal Lecter couldn’t find the key, this isn’t your heaven Dr Lecter, toilet paper napkins, plastic utensils, you have settled for scum.” Will watched Hannibal’s eyes flicker, appealing to a side of the ripper he knew well pride, taking a breathe, his hand shook, it felt good to release some of his pent up anger, but he braced for consequences. Surprisingly Hannibal appeared calm, amused if anything

“I have accepted less to be free, your goal is to bring the authorities down on us all, I doubt I’d see the silver utensils in your world.”

“Not if we escape.” Will stuttered over his last word, we? when did Hannibal merge into his plans, compromise for a man he’d met today. He caught up to himself. Hannibal was the only protection he could get, the only half assurity that he could emerge from here whole. He’d abandon contacting the police for a free passage out.

Hannibal took a long time to respond, frowning in thought, surely he must have considered this, Will had eyed every window, walked through every door, praying the next would be an exit. Hannibal had settled, found a home in hell. It didn’t fit the rippers profile, a trail of bodies sure, but accepting less than what he was worth no.

“I find important decisions are not best made at night, or to be more accurate morning, here let me show you to your room.” Hannibal finally said. 

His heart sank, he could hear a polite no when he had to. Plans dissolving into ash.

Right of the next corridor, Hannibal pushed open a door. A simple wire frame bed, and a thin brown wardrobe in plastic wood were the most prominent furniture in the room. The floor was scuffed, not in dirt but repeated use, He could see shadows of people, leaving dents where shoes had been kicked, a pair of glasses sat on the windowsill, lit by morning light coming through thin frosted glass windows.

“I am in number 66," Hannibal said smiling, of course he was, Will rolled his eyes, “goodnight Will."

The door shut, he listened for footsteps, but couldn't hear any. Thick walls.

Would he stay? His animal brain wanted sleep.

He'd avoided beds. They were obvious, someone hunting would check them. Yesterday, in the men's ward, he’d found a quiet room with a bed and crawled under it. Dust and black grime his blanket for the night. Not sure how long he’d slept for when suddenly someone was banging open the door. Proved right he saw the covers thrown to the floor as someone swept the room, overgrown toenails clicking against the floor.

There was a simple lock in this room. Testing the door, it stuck. Although he’d worked for the police, if someone wanted to get in they would, he needed more protection.

The wardrobe proved too heavy on sensative stitches, after a stroke of genus the bed instead was pushed half way across the door. Someone opening the door would hit the bed first. He’d be awake for his death.

He stood restlessly, talking himself down, kicking his shoes off and getting in. He coconed himself. it was musty the last person in had not changed the sheets, although so was he, so he couldn't really judge.

Sleepy thoughts, he succumed. A broad arm tight around his waist, sliding him back into a warm chest. He opened his eyes to wake himself up a bit. He couldn't indulge himself. But did wonder if this was his uncounsious reasoning for trying to get Hannibal to follow him out. He really had great taste.

He had made his bed, he would lie in it. Feeling little lumps, he rediscovered the pills in his sleave, dry swallowing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy new chapter and the next is written as well!  
> I'll be double checking all my spelling ect so please bare with me if you read it now.
> 
> Please leave a review, I havent written much in a while <3 
> 
> Thank you soo much <3 <3


	3. Eden

Will finally found the conservatory again.

He'd also managed to shower and change his clothes. 

All due to lucky accidents; Attempting to move the cupboard the previous night had thrown clean clothes out into view, and the bathroom door was mistakenly opened in an attempt to find the conservatory.

At risk of hypothermia and burns retrospectively, as the frigid water he’d dangerously adjusted too, gave way to steam. Gas heaters doing their job in hell, or perhaps the staff sector had a private generator. Elated. He’d opened his mouth, water flooding in, heat sinking into sensitive gums.

In payback his wound was raw and swollen, Submerging it in water he deeply regretted. It pulsed angrily as he sat cross legged in front of the building fire.

His thumb stroked the cuff on his new designer fleece, he’d owned a cheaper dupe back home, the previous occupant must also have kept dogs, thin white hairs weaved within the fibres. He'd kept his green inmate jacket on as well, feeling bulky, but whatever protection he could get he'd take.

A lump in his right pocket outlined scissors, he'd found them rummaging around the small staff kitchen. Twice he'd taken them out to make sure they was still there. Big grey clunky things, blade unfortunately chipped and dull. Holding them felt weird as well, He suspected they were for left handed people, which he wasn't.

He stopped himself touching them as Hannibal appeared. He'd also changed clothes. A grey jumper replacing his previous black.

“You’ve made use of the shower.” Hannibal noticed

“I hope you don’t mind, I used some of your 3 in 1 shampoo.” Will responded, he was surprised with his own tone. Seems the shower had put him in a good mood.

“I’m glad you made use of it” returned Hannibal.

Slight insecurity rose surrounded by armchairs he was still sitting on the floor. But Will didn't want to move, it was warm here, he also hadn't got used to using chairs again.

“I’m surprised you haven’t concocted your own yet'' Will said leaning back onto his hands as Hannibal turned to go into the adjacent room.

He responded only when he sat across from Will, finding it rude to shout across the room or something else archaic. He glided a mug over. Will sniffed the Garnet water. It was tea. Normal black tea.He hadn’t had tea in weeks.

“ah- manufacturing shampoo has sadly not made it on my to do list, The tragedy of three in one shampoo must persevere” Hannibal really was obsessed with scents and tastes, His eyes shutting as he took a sip. He’d even noticed an air freshener aerosol on the table, who else.

He supposed you didn’t become a cannibal by accident. What did make someone turn to human meat Will pondered lifting his mug, His own cannibalism he pushed away uncomfortably, it was politeness or some sort of shipwrecked starving morality. Hannibals was deeper, some philosophy on keeping memories or domination. He could almost feel the answer, although he wasn’t spending much time thinking, not sure he wanted to know. No use humanising him, it would only lead to his own doom to start understanding.

He blinked coming out of his thoughts as Hannibal spoke, “Perhaps you could make some for me.”

Will laughed, what ingredients did he have at his disposal; blood, mud bit of tea.

“pay my keep,” He reached up, running a hand through wet curls, rendering them frizzy “If I live to see tomorrow I just might.” he sobered a little at the gravity of his statement. This wasn’t a holiday, Hannibal wasn’t a friend. The tea was bitter limescale tileing together to float.

“Do you believe your death to be imminent?” Hannibal questioned. Will wanted to scoff, burying it in his drink, If he hadn’t read it himself he'd know Hannibal was a phycologist. Tone sending him back to cold leather chairs, legally trapped sessions. 

“we have one foot in the grave, not to say I won't fight my way out, but surely you know it's unlikely even you will survive this.” Will twisted his head, carefully watching Hannibals expressions, either he didn't believe in his risk to his mortality here or the fear of death did not affect him at all. It would be on par with his narcissism Will thought critically.

“If thats true these may be your last days on earth, So tell me, how will you spend them?” Bringing the conversation back to him. Typical shrink.

“get drunk, watch the sunset.” He joked lamely, taking a sip of now tepid tea to hide his discomfort. He held it close to the fire, feeling flames lick his knuckles.

Will was the first to notice the person, mug dropping in slow motion to burst over the fireplace stones, he grabbed a fire poker automatically wielding it as a woman approached from the dark of the corridor. He hadn’t heard her.

Prominent burns covered her entire body. Dark patches of scalp barely holding onto lank brown hair. Hands stretching she was feeling the warmth, here for the fire. Threw smudged tortoise shell glasses Will saw kind jade eyes.

Like a snake, before he could cry out Hannibal was behind her twisting her neck. Will watched the fall in horror. Her face hitting the ground first, thud echoing around the room.

“she wasn’t a threat.” Will said quietly. Echoing fingers clasped around his neck nails pressing tight.

Her glasses were smashed, shards resting around closed eyelids.

“do you know if there’s a shovel?” Will asked, holding his wound still as he slowly got to his feet. 

“There’s no door outside,” Hannibal said “if you wanted to bury her it would have to be in a plant pot.”

He couldn't look away from the woman. Her life springing up from the evidence she wore. The burns were self inflicted, possibly institutionalised for pyromania. She wouldn't have spoken.

“Then I’ll break a window.” He huffed, spying grass threw the conservatory. Although feeling Hannibal's rising aggression, he’d find somewhere else. As much as he was angry, breaking Hannibal’s favorite shit he thought could mean his neck next, he’d take revenge just before he left this sector. Maybe it would be a parting gift.

He half waited for an apology, or for Hannibal to express some sort of regret, but again he'd forgotten Hannibal wasn’t a civilian. Just another death to add to an exhaustingly long kill count. Meaningless. He could make excuses in that Hannibal was threatened by her, but who was he kidding. If he stayed much longer would he turn out the same.

He was careful moving around the corridor leading to the stairs, several of the office windows led out to the grassy garden he assumed met with the conservatory. He picked one close. Unhinging curtains to stuff around the door for noise control before using the spine of a Law book to punch out the glass. It was louder than he wanted, and glass was flying back at him but he finally took the glass from the pane.

Using a coal shovel he dug her a home in loose mud. 

Climbing back, the curtains were spread out across the floor, the door had been pushed open.

He spun. Mind rapidly taking in evidence.

There was a person in the room with him. 

He forced a breath, opening his eyes slowly as if to starve off the inevitable.

With the count of three he dropped, level with the chair legs. No one was under there. Rising he spun back up against the wall, There was nowhere else someone could hide. Was he wrong?

He had to calm himself and look again. Turning he looked either side of the window. Nothing. Crouching slightly he took in the room.

Like an optical illusion, eyes emerged from behind the snake plant. Right of the door. Face shadowed in darkness. Wide dead eyes and jowls, thin lips. He bit a scream. Forcing a breath. It wasn’t going away. A file flicked open he put the name to the face. Garrot Jacob Hobbs.

His cellmate. For Will's first week, he’d fallen asleep to chants of Abigail. Brutal vibrations as the wall between them was punched. Another inmate had later cleared up Abigail was his daughter, by the constant mutterings, he’d filled In enough to guess what had happened. As his own treatment progressed he’d found himself talking to her as well. 

Long hands gripped him throwing him back against the wall. He just managed to stay on his feet, a empty corkboard drilling his spine as hips pinned his.

"Where is she!” was screamed, Hobb’s breath hitting the back of his throat. He twisted his head away as solid fingers connected around his neck. 

Thin hands merged with Hobbs; slender and female. He was still looking for Abigail Will realised. The daughter impaled in his hunting shed. 

“She’s not here.” Will said stupidly, he couldn’t think how he'd survive this. He scramed desperately at Hobbs hands managing to suck in a long breathe.

His scissors were right there in his pocket, he tested taking his hands away from pulling Hobb's from his throat but couldn't, he'd suffocate before he grabbed them.

A clinking caught his attention, gnarly weapons tied to Hobb's belt. Threw blurred vision he couldn't tell what they were, Pliars? hammers? Whatever they were screamed painful. 

“Liar!” hands gained strengh squeezing tighter.

Will was submerged in icy blue raged eyes. He tried to concentrate. Hobbs was following someone...Abigail? She was the only one he had any intrest in. He must have substituted someone. They would have similar features, female, young, brown hair...

The girl he’d just buried?

“Outside, she ran outside.” He said choking as he released one of his hands to point shaikly out the broken window. What childish tactics was this he chided himself. Oh god, this wasn’t going to work. Where was Hannibal? not like he really expected him to save him. He was on his own. 

“You better be right.” He was dropped, slumping down the wall as he watched Hobbs move slowly through the window Will watched till he disappeared from view.

His brain was numb. Rubbing the sides of his face, He’d nearly died. He pulled his hair. Taking deep breathes.

Footsteps pattered up the corridor. Already familiar enough to hear Hannibal's gait, Will slowly heaved himself up using the wall

“Was there someone else here?” A polite accented voice asked

Threw the light in the door he watched Hannibal emerge. A rushing sense of safety embalmed him. Cheeks pulling into a smile before he could reign it back.

“An old friend.” Will replied moving further away from the window.

“Hmm without Tobias it seems the path is clear for guests.” Hannibal declared, _it was your fault_ hanging unsaid. Will opened his mouth to ask if Hannibal resented Will taking out his best Minion but thought better of it. Don't poke the bear he rationalised.

“Was it an official role you gave Tobias, pest control?” Will asked instead, the broken window was sending in a draft, a faint whistling noise rushing threw the room. Will moved away walking beside Hannibal.

“He thought us equals, gathering instruments just had a convenient side effect.” you didn’t need empathy to see that Hannibal did not think them so.

“My friend is outside the window now.” Will warned, 

“I’ll watch out” Hannibal said although he was looking in the wrong direction.

“The-” A callused hand came over his mouth, Hannibal was locked on the far end of the corridor by the stairs. 

Will followed his eyeline. Partially adjusted to the darkness he could see most of the way. No shapes reveled themselves.

He moved the hand off of his mouth. It was the second time their hands had touched. He was surprised at the calluses and scares, with his attitude you’d expect to never work a day in his life. Hannibal's hand clutched his and squeezed. He dropped it thinking Hannibal really didn't seem to mind his touch.

“What did you see?” He whispered 

“Three Inmates.” Hannibal responded. staying close.

The numb feeling of near death still hadn't left Will, no fear could reach him like this. A deep part of himself ached to see Hannibal tear into them, see the product of years of bloodshed. He was clearly skilled at hand to hand, strong and broad, medical knowledge a key componant, if you knew how to put someone back together you knew how to take them apart. If Hannibal was weary at all he didn't show it. Confidence was a killer Will reminded himself. Victim or murderer he'd read too many cases of assurance leading to doom. The moment you got comfortable, you made stupid risks you were dead. He reined himself in. He was injured, partnered with someone with an unclear motive. He had to use his head.

Exposed in the light from the open door, highlighting them in the dark of the corridor. 

"We can’t stay here,” WIll moved back, “can we make it back to the conservatory?” 

“We should have time, they are in the first room” Hannibal answered opening a door three down before quietly sliding in, Will followed swallowed into darkness. Strong cleaning supplies hit his nose as he stepped inside, he crouched keeping watch as he heard Hannibal sliding draws open.

He saw them. 

Three men. 

They were running, shit. He flinched, Fingers thrust into his pocket for the scissors. Could they hide?

Filling up the whole corridor with their gait, he assumed Hannibal would have heard them. They were a few steps away now, he froze.

The nearest turned looking at him. Will dived back as the man lunged. 

“Will?” Will reopened his eyes, he wasn't dead? Nothing felt broken. Twisting his head around, they were gone. His own gasps filled his ear.

Hands under his arms pulled him back to sit against a wall. Rough fingers on his cheek. He looked around. Opening his mouth to ask where they were when he caught Hannibal's expression.

Thoughts crashing down. 

Another Hallucination?

Anger filled up what panic left. Squeezing knuckles into fists.

His hallucinations had almost disappeared, this was nothing compared to his early encephalitis symptoms or the engines pure influence. He told himself he was lucky he'd only had a few episodes, this was to be expected his mind was still healing.

"Will, are you back with us?" Hannibal asked, Will reluctantly met his eyes, expecting pity or some depressed confused look that had overtaken his ex-wifes face for his bad days, but this was thankfully absent on Hannibal, although looking entertained wasn't really better Will thought.

“I’m gonna need you to tell me if someone is real.” Will said, gaze somewhere around Hannibal's ear.

“Of course,” Hannibal dropped his hands from Will’s cheek “would you like to describe what you’ve seen?” 

“I prefer to just move on.” WIll replied, getting to his feet, they were being persued, he shouldn’t be sat on the floor. Fuck his scar was throbbing, sliding his top layers up some blood was beeding around the stitches. 

“If only psychology was that simple,” Hannibal quipped, “I was going to give you this... but it seems you already have a weapon.” He held a knife out palm up. It looked like a kitchen knife, thick handel, thin blade. Will dropped the scissors he’d stolen. Cat out of the bag.

“I think you understand why” he held his palm out weary the gift may be rescinded, he had to try, a knife was more valuable then air. Cold steel carresed his grip. He re-pocketed the scissors.

His breathing was almost automatic again, although the headache that accompanied his hallucinations was creeping up, the last thing he needed was for it to develop into a migraine.

Reaching further into his fleece pocket, his hand closed around the tablets still in their cases, he took two, cringing as one refused to fall down his throat. 

“Lets go back to the conservatory, we’ll have more space” Hannibal said walking and peering up the corridor. Being penned into a cupboard wasn’t a good option so Will followed finally choking down the tablet.

It felt weird putting a knife in his pocket, if he fell he’d stab himself. So kept it in his hands. 

He walked on, hair raising with his back towards the enemy. Could they trap the entrance? He could make a snare if there was somewhere to attach it to. He looked at the flat ceiling disappointed. 

Footsteps suddenly ricocheted, Will sped up not bothering to look. 

“Real?” he asked, reaching the conservatory, Hannibal was already there standing to the right of the door. 

“Real” Hannibal affirmed, serrated knife held in his scarred hands, 

Will ran backwards, further to the left. Almost tripping over the armchair placed near the fire, he could feel the fires heat caressing his side. It felt like years since they had sat there drinking tea.

Legs flew into the room, Three people.

Hannibal's knife flew, meeting its mark deep into the first persons chest, the blond girl fell backwards colliding with another man, 

Quickly hannibal caught the next, 

“We just want him,” The man cried, smiling and lunging against Hannibal's hold towards Will, “He took my King!” Wills heart dropped, Hannibal had a way out. They had no formal loyalty. It made sense to save himself and his home.

The man looked like he was in molt, skin peeling from his face, long strips hanging like tinsel from his cheeks.

“The avenging angels” Hannibal disarmed the man metel thudding down in a fluid dance. He tried to run but Hannibal moved faster, slamming their skull into the wall behind. They flopped down boneless.

Hannibal had protected him? His heart squeezed, trying to swallow back emotions. Did Hannibal feel loyalty to him? Could a serial killer form real bonds? Will watched dazed as Hannibal stood a God over the fallen, he couldn't help thinking he’d never met anyone like Hannibal before and lickely never would again. Fear sprung, as he realeased how rare this man was, he could lose him very easily, never connect to anyone like this again, not just in this aslyum but in the world.

Its just addrenalin Will told himself weakly, grattitude. He'd met killers before, He'd met people who liked death and caused it freely, He could find another psyco he told himself manically. Not giving himself time to think as another figure emerged from the dark.

One left.

Will stepped forward preparing his own dance with fate, when he caught their fear. Sure they were all weary of Hannibal, living on the outskirts of his domain, but this one's flight instinct was rapid, Will felt submerged, any chance This man would take to run. He knew what he had to do.

"Our last boy died last night, we'd dragged it on for days, cutting tiny slithers, barely enough for a stew but worth it, we made him eat himself you know." Will giggled

 _He was married_ his subconscious whispered, the only jewelry they were permitted to keep. Tattoos peeked from his wrist, his mind analyzed everything quickly

"Mary will be delighted to know how you served us, she was a pretty poor cook though, not like Hannibal.” this got more of a reaction.

“How do you know my wife?” his feet took him backwards, one hand clutched at his own face, eyes running back and forth between them, Will was thrilled he was looking at him just as much as Hannibal now.

“Shall we post what's left back” Will asked, twisting his fingers to spin his knife in an arc, he watched the light reflect up the man's face. Like a rocking horse, his heels lifted periodically, repressing his sprint. what would send him over. 

Will lunged, the man tripped over himself falling back

“N-No! please not him.” he screamed, eyes on Hannibal, his face was wet, sweat or tears Will wasn’t sure 

“Stay still.” Will cried, slamming the knife down, slow enough for the man to turn and run, knife harmlessly hitting the wooden flooring.

Screams ripped up the hallway. Seems he died anyway, as more people were coming. 

Will backed up, Watching Hannibal use his foot to hold the body down as he ripped out his knife from the cooling woman's body. He couldn’t help analysing Hannibal's chilling lack of reaction. 

A flurry of legs erupted into the room.

Fist emerging to smash his face. His head flew back, he’d seen that blonde hair before, the same man who he’d hit upstairs. So this was a revenge thing, Tobias wasn’t exactly likeable, how did the spider make this many friends. 

He stepped back cheek throbbing, Three new bodies collapsed around Hannibal. He was holding his own, but he hoped Hannibal could also step away. There were too many. Relentless! Their best option was to run. Leave this place, but would Hannibal abandon his home.

A hand grabbed at his arm, he turned, the blonde uncomfortably close, spit dripping from whiskers, he pushed back. The man lunged again he sidestepped, from his peripheral another face appeard from the corridor, no no no. 

The man swung, fist dully catching his arm, sensing his opportunity he sunk home, driving the knife forward, he caught the spinning man in the armpit and with the momentum lost his grip, watching his weapon sale out of view, hardly the most lethal of injury locations, the crazed man screamed. Hunched over, yanking the knife out and dropping it onto the floor with a clang, blood poured like an open tap, burning blue eyes locked with his.

He had a few seconds until he was caught so he turned. 

Hannibal had mentioned another wing but he could easily become trapped if he went into the side corridor blind. Fuck. He had to make a quick decision here.

Half hoping Hannibal wouldn't find him later, he picked up a chair, side stepped and launched it.

It sailed through the window. Glass crumbling, briefly over taking the sounds of violence. He wasted crucial time seeking marron. 

Hannibal's eyes were wide. Looking at his lost home.

"come on" he found himself shouting, oh god he was taking the cannibal, He reached down and threw the air freshener into the fire, distraction time, and turned just missing clutching fingers and ran, someone was close behind. He felt the heat up his back as the can exploded. 

He could hear panting just behind, he tore forwards threw the grass.

The broken window was to his right, although he’d be right back in the same scenario he’d just escaped from.

He looked around, to his left tall iron gates capped by sloping barbed wire, infront a Brick wall.

He stopped, tracing the length of the wall, resisting looking back to see how much time he had, he kept scanning. 

No convenient rope, box or ladder. Fuck fuck.

He looked back. It was the blond, shit. As he twisted his head forward, there was something in the far corner. As he ran closer he made out purple and pink petals. 

Chance wasted on flowers. 

He took the scissors out of his pocket but the looming shadow fell. 

He spun surprised to see the man sprawled, one foot deep in a hole. His hole. He couldn’t see the body. Hobbs had found the dead replacement. What strange luck. 

Before the guy could get to his feet Will zeroed in on their neck. Shutting his brain down as he drove the sharpened steel forward. The man was quicker, grabbing his wrist before the steel could kiss his skin. He panted, jerking back to release the man's hold. Fuck. the man got to his feet swinging himself up. Crying nonsense Will couldn’t make out.

He watched their vapid eyes. Opportunity sung, before they had stabilized he kicked their feet they fell onto the scissors poised under their chest. He thrust forward feeling them slip further inside the man.

He drew the scissors out. The heaving body curled into itself. He ignored the moans of pain. He’d done it. His hands fell to his knees, breathing deep. Strange glee flooded threw his blood. 

More people were coming. 

His eyes drew back to Pansies. The flowers were in pots. Plastic, cracked. But screwed onto the wall. He stepped back, foot sliding in mud. Blondie was moving but wouldn’t be able to get to his feet again. He could do this. 

He sprinted foot catching the first pot, he stomped down, pot splintering into two, rendering his foothold useless. He only had this chance. Hands caught the next one. He felt the same give as it broke but he couldn’t give up. He lunged himself up, flowers raining to the ground as his nails just caught the top of the wall. 

He scratched upwards, broken nails or fingers, he got a grip. It was like being split in two as he got on top of the wall. He gasped. Bloody fingers into his chest. He had made it. He laughed swinging one leg over. There was a drop around three meters. 

He could see the whole garden. Hannibal was alive. Adrenaline crashed as he watched the chase. The grey jumper had crimson sleeves. 

“Hannibal” He cried, lowering a broken hand down.

Hannibal ran.

Their hands connected, he pulled up. His chest breaking.

Inmates had caught up, greedy hands pulling back.

He fell forward.

No.

He strained, flinging himself backwards. Hannibal was lifting up now. Just a little more.

Hannibal had a grip on the wall. 

He doesn't remember the fall backwards, but the throbbing skull told a tale.

Moaning. A hand lifted his neck sliding under, carefully weaving through strands of hair.

He opened his eyes slowly. The daylight burned.

“Hannibal.” the man was lying next to him, dirty and bloody.

Muffled sounds of screaming and chanting polluted the air from the other side of the brick wall.

He shut his eyes as tingles traveled up his body. 

“You should live, your neck and skull are okay” Hannibal whispered, Will made some noise of affirmation. Rolling onto his shoulder, guided by the supporting hands. 

Opening his eyes, he saw they were lying close. Thighs pressed together.

WIll felt really happy. They had made it. He allowed a smile, it was only appropriate defeating fate once more.

His hands were floating. Looking down Hannibal was moving them, pressing a nail back the right way. He flinched. Pushing and clutching at Hannibal's upper arm. 

“No more pain.” He whispered cringing at the sorry state of his hands. 

“We will see, especially as I owe you now Will,” Hannibal said, for once he wasn’t meeting Will’s eyes “you did save my life.” 

“So did you but if you insist, I'll take what I can get here.” Will joked, feeling a bit more normal, the memory of the glass window callapsing to the floor rotated his thoughts “although I am sorry I wrecked your home” He held his breathe, he wouldn't be able to put up a good fight if Hannibal decided here and now he was too much trouble. 

“It doesn't matter.” Hannibal said quickly. Will rolled his eyes, it did matter. 

“I’ll help you find another one.” Will said, fuck it, time was meaningless in this place. Previous determination of escaping quickly waned. He could stay with Hannibal until he found an exit.

Slight dread pooled at the idea of separating. Reminding him of his earlier revelation, he wouldn't find someone like him again, he probably wouldn't find another sentient person in this asylum he thought critically.

He was too attached. He should have protected himself.

“Have you reconsidered at all...escaping from here” Will couldn’t stop his offer escaping his lips. finding some strength to reopen his eyes, Hannibal wasn’t looking at him, seemingly locked behind the wall at the noise origin. 

His eyes moved back to Will, a smile creasing his forehead “I’ll come with you Will,” Hannibal said, he had made his decision “if you’ll have me.” 

Elated he dragged some energy from somewhere, knees slid under him before he was throwing himself at Hannibal. 

A strong chest sliding against his own. In his delirious probably concussion ridden thoughts, he had wanted contact but had misjudged, sliding too far forward, their lips met. Had he meant to do this? wasn't this all too soon? He was kissing a Serial Killer? 

Wills thoughts stuttered to a stop. as Hannibal deepened the kiss opening Wills mouth. Hands cradling his neck. Will’s own were moving, clutching at Hannibal's jumper, he overbalanced, throwing a hand onto the ground above Hannibal to catch himself. 

Will parted Hannibal's lips again, heat pooling under a sore abdomen. He moaned in pain and pleasure, his wound rubbing across Hannibal's abdomen.

Visions flickered, Hannibal's lovers flooded threw his head, empathy an unwelcome pulse. Clearly skilled. Soo skilled. He couldn't Concentrate. Mind flickering of.

Lidded eyes looked down at Garnet. 

His lifeline. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I have an amazing ending planned out so please stay tuned
> 
> Please leave a review with what you thought
> 
> Re-edited the lot, so if you've read it previously you may enjoy the changes


	4. Blight lands

Air rushed, filling the gap between their lips. They could no longer ignore reality

Sliding ungracefully off of Hannibal, his head was down, unable to risk meeting curious eyes.

Lips tingling. He ached. Tongue tracing his top lip in mimicry, a taste uniquely Hannibal spreading further threw his mouth. 

They'd kissed. Hannibal was attracted to him? It made sense. Their attraction had pulled them together. He didn’t want to think he was that foolish but it could have contributed to why he’d stayed with the man regardless of the clear danger, and why Hannibal hadn’t added him to the ghosts in the asylum. With trepidation he acknowledged people in romantic relationships were rarely able to read each other's motives, intention or even feelings.

Already it was individually difficult to judge the man. His motions calculated. He could barely give a best guess to his intentions, he couldn’t fully trust his instincts here, which was crucial to steady their shifting balance of power. They could ruin the other if they so desired.

Unable to fight studying him, his head rose, Hannibal was smirking. He huffed fighting his own lips pulling up.

“What are you so happy about?” He asked, begging Hannibal to give some part of himself away.

“You always surprise me Will.” Hannibal answered simply.

Blue eyes flicked to the daggered teeth he’d felt against his. Heat a trail up his spine, burning for biceps clenched around his ribs. Shitty pick up lines, and romantic cliches flooded his mouth, all too soppy. He wasn’t good at this. Refusing to embarrass himself he changed the subject

“We can’t stay here,” Will looked up at where _here_ was. A dark courtyard, shadowed by a large grey building. Another dead end. “Fuck are we going to have to go back?” Will asked shivering. Surrounded by high walls they were cut off from the wind, but also the sun, the air was frigid. 

Too much pressure on just his knee caps, he got himself upright, careful of sinking further into thick mud. Unfortunately it was too late for his hands, forgetting infection risks with Hannibal's mouth on his. 

Getting onto the wall had pulled open the thin knife wounds from Tobias, He brang his hands closer to his face. Using the edge of his thumb he swiped globs of mud off, stinging zapped, revealing his left ring fingernail cracked in the middle. Delicate skin under the nail was bruised on its way to black. Half of the nail stuck up the other half still attached. Pulling it was excruciating so he left it, reluctant to face more pain this quickly. It would fall off on its own.

“Here, it’s adequate until we find soap.” Hannibal knocked his arm gently with a grey tube. He took it, twisting to read _antibacterial gel_. He nodded in thanks applying it quickly, it thinned the mud, spreading it further around.

Long grass a barrier from the dirt saved most of their clothes, still he doubted Hannibal was happy with the state of them. He looked like he belonged here now, just another inmate, bloody and dirty. It suited him Will decided, he finally looked as dangerous as he was. 

Hannibal hummed eyes moving “regardless of the waiting mob, we may not be able to climb back.” Will traced his eye line back to the three metre wall. He was right, getting up there would be a challenge-. He cut off his thoughts, they needed to get out of here. Not go backwards, the exit wasn’t in that direction. 

“I only know there's an exit through the administration block.” Will supplied, it was the way all the patients came in, where they'd taken their last look at freedom. Frogmarched threw glass doors, quartz desks, three monitor computers into the elevator for the one way trip down.

“We’ll enter the building,” Hannibal ignored him, walking up to a smashed window of the looming flat grey. 

Will was unsettled. They were going in a random direction, however he followed, painfully aware they didn’t have a lot of options.

“Hey, are you injured at all?” He asked careful about being too loud. Hannibal pulled his bloody sleeves up, muscles coated in light brown hair, but no obvious wounds.

“I am fine Will.” He responded, arms still outstretched.

“Good.” Will finished, turning to the building quickly. 

The murmurs of human exclamation were higher in volume, it suddenly clicked they were coming from the wrong wall. Not behind the brick wall, but from inside the building they were about to enter. A scream pealed into the courtyard, hitting a place deep within his ear. Either way they were walking into danger he reasoned, unknowns in front and behind. No escape from either. They couldn’t wait in limbo. Hide in a dead end.

The window ledge was shoulder height for Hannibal, For Will it reached his chin. He’d be pulling himself in blind.

The pain of flexing his fingers, caused a reluctance to use them in getting inside. They were raw. An odd idea of covering them with his socks infatuated him for a moment, anything to not expose them to more dirt. Although this may defeat the point. Hannibal had suggested bandages yesterday, but he’d completely forgotten to actually do it. 

As he was thinking Hannibal jumped, pulling himself into darkness. No drastic change in the noise, the people must be further in. 

Hannibal's head reappeared like a bad magic trick, motioning him up with a nod. Taking a last look at the tall wall behind, a hand enclosed his bicep, Will turned facing forward, jumping using the flat part of his forearm placed onto the ledge to haul himself into blackness. 

As he passed through the window, his nose stuttered on an inhale, throat closing at the urge to gag. His hands rose to cover his nose and mouth automatically.

Eyes slower than his nose. Blinking away what looked like static, the room came into focus alongside a crushing feeling of doom.

Chipped Bars barricaded the front wall, a dented iron bed and grossly overflowing steel toilet the sole furniture in the space. faeces and unknown body emissions decorated the floors in earth tones. They had arrived in the Prison sector. 

All incarcerated at the institute had committed a criminal offence, but the prison sector was the worst of the worst. Those too dangerous for any freedom.

Will felt deep sympathy for Hannibal, the pain of having superior smell in what was essentially a sewer.

Studying him further he noted no visible recognition to this area. Not even the Ripper was housed here. This wasn’t unexpected though, from what he’d gathered his stay bore more relevance to an uncomfortable vacation than a punishment. 

Cautiously Will prowled around the faeces stopping a careful distance away from the bars. Spying out.

A large Kidney shaped hole in the metallic ceiling of the building spotlighted the lower floor. The building was cast in a blue tint not helped by the off white walls, painted with mold. He couldn't focus further, instincts caught on the nearest threat. There were people in the cells across from them.

They weren't moving, not even to shiver in the frigid air. An older man was sprawled on the floor of his cell, bare arms against icy cement, fingers just hanging threw the bars.

“Are their doors locked?” Will whispered to Hannibal, feeling heat as he pressed lightly against his left side.

“They are on the path of starving to death.” Hannibal's tone was off Will noticed, how curious.

“How long do they have?” The riots started three days ago. Not enough time to die, but enough to look truly desperate.

“Hm, now that depends on a lot of factors-”Hannibal stopped himself, there were endless stipulations WIll could probably figure out himself “but without water the weak may be dead as the dawn breaks tomorrow” 

“I wouldn't want to go like that.” Will couldn’t stop himself saying, it was the worse phycological torture, Slow and painful.

“Fate is not kind.” Hannibal murmured.

Not partial to the same saviour complex as Will, he was observant in catching they could be in the same position. Moving forward to push at their cell door, for a jarring moment it stuck. Will held his breath as he caught on. Hannibal twisted his body harder, it creaked, thankfully sliding open.

An open door and broken window, someone had come through here. Using some foothold to climb up the brick wall behind. No use following the traces of what was sure to be a dead man's journey he stopped himself looking for more evidence, just in time to catch someone walking towards them. 

His feet quickly stepped back, watching carefully as a young man skipped towards them. Will averted his eyes holding his breath, but the man stopped, face protruding thru the bars of the cell. He had warm brown hair, dark freckles disappearing under thin scabs across his nose and neck. small eyes a murky green. 

“Hii!” The man cried, hand snaking between the bars, fingers grabbing air, “Hii! I want to help you!” His high pitched voice reverberated around the small cell. 

Will kept rules to ensure his survival, don’t trust, conserve water ect ect. Some he’d been forced to change since meeting Hannibal, but one he would never abrogate on was to stay silent and undetected. He cringed at the echoes of the man's voice flew around the building, everyone in this hell knew where they were. Starving eyes watched from afar.

“That's very kind of you, can you please show us the way out.” Hannibal asked, stepping forward.

“No you mustn't do that,” The man snapped, licking his lips, “We have to stay here, I can help, I helped Jake!, I did! he said I did.”

“You’ve done very well, but me and my friend are permitted to leave this building,” Hannibal returned easily, The man's face scrunched up confused “I am a doctor.” Hannibal affirmed reaching and gripping his dirty hand still outstretched in their cell. 

Will looked on in horror. Pretending to be staff, a death sentence to the wrong people. Thumbing his fleece, he realised they were both in staff clothes. As soon as possible they had to change. Naked would be safer. He thought he might have his inmate t-shirt underneath screw freezing to death, but pulling his collar revealed a small pink t-shirt, the lone top in that wardrobe. He pulled his inmate jacket closed 

“Doctor, I am James.” The man proclaimed with perfect straight teeth, Will let out a breath, he believed them and it was favorable.

“Come come,” James cried, running and pointing over the shiny railing to the lower floor. 

Hannibal followed stepping out. WIll did the same looking to either side first, no one else was on this boardwalk. Their cell door rolled back. 

“There!” James shouted, faces looked up towards them. 

Will quickly counted six people outside their cells. 

Rainwater had evidently fallen threw the hole in the roof, flooding the east side. A sunken shadow facedown in the middle. 

He connected the uproar with the person. A man viciously impounding his own skull against a pillar there was the thudding, audible even from outside the building. A rocking dark haired man was the wailing, every few seconds they’d scream, not dissimilar to a police siren. Will flinched as it came again, gritting his teeth.

A long blue door was ajar to the far left, a clear exit. He felt relief, itching to leave. Now they just needed to get down.

“Thank you for your help.” Hannibal said, smiling politely. Will forced his own.

“Can’t go down!” James lunged fingers sunk under Will's arm pulling him forward. He looked back at Hannibal as he was dragged. No help? 

He ran them over to a mass of crushed strange metal stretching all the way down to the ground floor.

“Can’t go down.” He repeated. Will got in a better stance as James stopped them dangerously close to a drop. Stepping onto the pile to his right was nothing. Peering down Will judged it wasn’t necessarily a death sentence, but you wouldn’t be walking for a while.

Clued in by the railing just visible under the junk Will realised this was where the stairs were. Would they really be unable to go down? They hardly had another option. Prisons weren’t built with many exits. 

“How unfortunate” Hannibal surveyed arching his neck elegantly forward.

It was a mess of white, greys and black with a natural slope, sliding would probably not kill them although the metal looked rough, jagged like it’d been torn off something larger. 

“So you jump” flat palms hit Will’s shoulder blades, feet jumping forward, the descent loomed, stomach dropping as he tilted.

He flailed his right arm behind him just able to get a grip on the railing, he pushed back motioning his entire body behind it, The assault stopped, he looked shocked back into confused eyes, James honestly believed he was helping.

“Why didn’t you go,” James asked, hands reaching back into dangerous place.

“No!” WIll said reflexively feeling his broken nail splinter further, cutting into the skin below. His heart was flying. Adrenaline polluting his thoughts.

“That railing is another option,” Hannibal cut in nodding over to the right. 

Following his eyeline to the other side of the room, threw the fading sunlight a railing had broken, falling down in rustic mimicry of a ladder. 

Will quickly traced it for weaknesses, if the base was stable it'd work.

Finally dangerous hands fell from his back. He quickly created distance.

Keeping his body tense had strained his abdomen, he tuned out whatever Hannibal and his new friend were talking about pushing it like a bruise. The ache was traveling down his left thigh, he rubbed the area, muscles tight.

“How is the wound Will?” Hannibal's smooth voice chipped, He snapped his head up, Hannibal was close, eyes trailing up from his feet. He watched as his gaze came back to his face meeting his eyes.

“fine” He responded eyebrow arched.

He waited for Hannibal to lead, trailing behind to walk away the ache.

“Thanks for saving me from the bungee jump” He couldn’t help muttering to his back, maybe he was being too generic but usually people acted to defend their... friends from the threat of death.

“I believed you strong enough to escape on your own.” Hannibal responded evenly. 

“Isn’t that nice.” Will countered. Kissing the guy didn’t change his personality, if it came to it, he’d have watched his fall.

Aware of the eyes from below. Will kept a pointless watch as Hannibal started the climb down. If the inmates below started to attack there wasn’t much he could do from above, he thought holding his breath. 

Thankfully no one rushed forward or moved in their direction. Inmates conscious enough to look over wore dead eyes. Animals trapped in a zoo for too many years, they’d lost hope they could exist elsewhere. Their families and homes long gone.

Unsure how much weight the railing could take, Will waited till Hannibal reached the bottom before turning to go down. It would have been slippery had his painful cuts not provided some twisted friction against the cold metal. 

“No don’t leave me!” screamed James, the echo ripping threw the building “Come back up, Come back now!” 

Will looked up limited to what he could see.

“Shut the fuck up!” someone else screamed from above. 

Will kept going, preying James didn’t follow. If he climbed down now the railing could break. Sweat building, he climbed faster almost at the bottom rung. 

“NOO!” A rush of dark fabric, a thump as something hit the ground to his right. His eyes locked on the rungs till he reached the bottom, knowing it wasn’t going to be pretty.

He took a breath studying the smooth railing for an unnecessary second before turning. 

Head crooked unnaturally, James had fallen on his neck.

Horror dissipated into joy at his quick death. Uncomfortably he recognised he was even jealous, he'd escaped this evil place, even if it was by death.

However this dissipated like smoke as James’s leg kicked, he was still alive!

Weird little cries from a crushed throat. His breath froze in his throat. Was this fixable, what quality of life would he have, what quality of life does anyone have here he thought critically. As the moans rose in volume. He made his decision.

He reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the loop in the scissors handle. Not ideal for this. He looked over at Hannibal, that stupid amused expression he always wore present, eying the man like a wolf finding the weak within a pack of sheep.

“Knife.” he demanded, a bloody hand held out. Hannibal opened his mouth but Will glared, daring Hannibal to deny him. Will watched him surrender, knife sliding out.

Will did it quickly, slitting James’s broken neck. He tried to shut his mind down, but tingles flowed threw his body as the blood poured.

A rainbow of reds and oranges coated the floor cleaning the filth. Life itself. Blood forgave and healed. His burning hands reached for the balm, when a hand grabbed his. 

Pulling back Hannibals face stared down.

“You have open wounds WIll, you mustn’t touch his blood” He blinked, standing up, the body resting on him flopped down, small cries barely audible over the chaos.

The scream from the rocking man hit, locating it easily to his left. Black hair reached almost to the man's bare arms, matted in a clump on one side, it had the potential to be so beautiful. His expression was haunting, he was terrified on him. Bloodshot eyes on what he'd done.

“Will can you tell me three things you see?” Hannibal asked one hand cupping his chin to face him, fingertips grazing stubble.

Annoyed Will recognised the grounding exercise, but he’d play along. He didn’t feel very present, the colours were all wrong.

“I see umm..you, broken men, dead men” He finished, forcing himself to look at Hannibal, already his thoughts were coming clearer. Hannibal never overwhelmed WIll with his emotions. His manipulations useful for once.

“Thank you, could you tell me three things you can feel?” Hannibal asked.

“Hannibal we should move-” Will responded there were people behind them moving free, he could feel their presence, another just in front, stumbling around.

“Answer me please.” Hannibal responded, not taking his eyes away

“I feel water seeping into my shoe, my abdomen fucking hurts, and I guess you.” He said, the hand on his chin moved respectively rubbing up. Breaking Hannibal's hold on his face he looked down at his black inmate trainers submerged to the laces in the dark rainwater. Hannibal of course was just missing the foot spa. WIll stepped out, shaking his foot, relieved he wasn’t near the sunken body in the middle.

“And Will what-” 

“Hannibal I think we both know it smells like shit in here, ect ect can we please just get going.” Will snapped, He quickly realised he might have pushed back too hard but Hannibal’s expression didn’t change. What would it take for the ripper to get angry. It was almost tempting to figure out, A dark part throbbed to push and push until his expression fell and revealed whomever was behind the mask. 

“Would you like to display him?” Hannibal asked, drawing Wills attention back to James now dead on the floor. Will groaned embarrassed at his instability. There were much more pressing issues. Primely the other inmates. 

He handed the knife back to Hannibal hilt first, spitefully not wiping the blood off, it dripped, staining Hannibal's grip crimson.

“I want to get out of here.” He replied, ignoring the body.

“As you wish.” Hannibal said, rubbing the blade along his dark slacks before sheathing. He sounded vaguely disappointed, was he holding him back.

“If you wanted him, I wouldn’t stop you.” Will said shuffling forward. Hannibal laughed.

“Thank you WIll, however you are right-” Hannibal paused looking around distastefully “it does smell like shit in here.”

A laugh barked involuntarily from him, breaking the tense atmosphere, more eyes turned their way, but it was still worth it, fuck.

“I love it when you swear,” Will laughed, getting himself under control. Hannibal beamed.

His estimate of six outside their cells was wrong. Spinning he recounted seven and four dead people. Three of the people were looking at them, the other four were very mentally unstable, he doubted they had any contact with reality. No awareness he and Hannibal were even passing. 

They stepped on, walking towards the open door. 

A man hidden in the dark overhang darted, Will intercepted Hannbal reaching for his knife, gripping tight under his arm to push Hannibal further out of the way. A boney shoulder just clipped Wills, mercifully that area was pretty numb from an old gunshot injury anyway. The man didn’t stop, his head cracked into the thin wall between the cells. Collapsing into a moaning pile. His eyes were bloody, nails also. Completely bald. 

“The engines prime lab rats” Hannibal whispered, as they moved past the shaking people.

A group of three were huddled, interlocked with each other, the youngest, who appeared to be only a teenager, was contorted, lips glued to the man on his lap's forehead. Dreadlocks hanging on with thin threads trailing the rancid floor.

“Chilton's favourites” Will agreed. 

They reached the thick blue door. Adjar, they could both slide threw. Immediately disappointed at the dim hallway rather than sunlight.

Half of the doors were visible with the light from the other room. Curious Will stepped to the first door. Sturdy but nothing like the cell doors encountered previously, he turned the handle. It opened like butter.

Screens lit up the room, thousands of knobs, filling a wall. He forgot to look further as he met lidded eyes staring up from the floor.

“huh...Leave, I am sleeping, LEAVE!” The man shouted, skeletal fingers covering his eyes. Will shut the door obeying. There wasn’t an exit through there anyway. Will noticed Hannibal’s hand looped into his knife sheath, glad he was taking this seriously.

Worried about more friends, they avoided the other doors, striding into darkness to the biggest at the end. Like a moth Will fixated on light coming from the thin space under the Gigantic door.

Clumsily Will pawed down to what felt like a steel handle, Finding the end before bearing down.

It didn’t move.

His heart sunk but he continued on, pushing harder, rising to his tip toes to add more weight.

“Hey, try this handle” He whispered, moving aside, Hannibal coordinated his body, stance profesional. Will heard a crunch. His sigh of relief was short lived. No light flooded in. It stayed shut.

“There could be something pushed up against the other side?” Will theorised aloud, shoulder pushing against the door as Hannibal wrenched the handle.

“Can you feel any other locks?” Hannibal asked. A pitter patter sound echoed as their hands felt the door

“Would they put internal locks on a prison door?” Will asked, mind whirring. Surely there would be too much risk if the patients had access to an internal lock. They wouldn't risk a Inmate hostage situation. The locks would be external. It was the only theory that made sense, Although he wasn't exactly knowledgeable in this area, especially with Chilton's awful decision making, even he couldn't predict that dick head.

“if the riots started somewhere else in the institute, to prevent further chaos they would've locked these doors.” Will finished. Everyone incarcerated in the Prison block was still here (whether dead or alive) the riots couldn't have started here or this block would be empty or near enough.

Hannibal stopped pushing evidently agreeing with his assessment. 

His earlier statement rolled back into the forfront of his thoughts. Prisons weren’t typically built with more than one exit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I decided to split this chapter into two as it was getting too long, the next chapter should be up within the week :D 
> 
> Please leave your comments and Kudos, 
> 
> Thank you <3 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter  
> LK


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